


Mind & Body

by Interrobang



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Autofellatio, Inappropriate Use of Plow Position, M/M, Rimming, Sexy Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25016845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang
Summary: Hanzo enjoys a very...satisfyingyoga routine these days. McCree asks to observe.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 5
Kudos: 194





	1. Morning Wake-Up

**Author's Note:**

> This boiled at the back of my mind FAR too long before I finally wrote it!

Morning yoga in the east wing rec room on the fourth floor of the Watchpoint was, for Hanzo, always a time of calm and rejuvenation: the room was just high enough above the cliffs that the sun shone in bright and sharp, illuminating the whole space. Even with its threadbare carpets and broken furniture, for that first golden hour of the day, the dilapidated room was a sanctuary.

Hanzo and Satya had become friends in this room. Satya had found it first, while mapping the entirety of the Watchpoint and making a list of repairs needed. Hanzo had found it a few weeks later, while doing his part to look for defensive vulnerabilities in the structure of the building. 

As it so happened, the run-down room was beautiful at the early hours Hanzo liked to work, and so he had set his sights on it as a meditation space. But when he’d shown up the next morning with the remnants of his tea in a travel mug and a cushion to sit on, Satya was already there doing her morning salutations with the sunrise.

They’d struck up a kind of truce: Hanzo would sit quietly during his meditation, and Satya would go through her morning routine without disturbance. It went unspoken that they did not divulge the location of their morning respites to the rest of the agents. 

Inevitably, however, Hanzo and Satya struck up conversation, and over time, their chats turned into more in-depth talks about methodology and philosophy. It turned out that Satya had some experience with meditation, though she found it difficult, and Hanzo had some experience with yoga, though he was out of practice.

It was obvious, then, that they would teach each other.

Hanzo found the variety of stretches a welcome challenge. For so long he had focused on building strength and muscle mass; flexibility had fallen by the wayside. His old teachers would have been disappointed in him. And so, with Satya as his new teacher, he pushed himself into pretzels and loop-de-loops and made his limbs do things he hadn’t done in years. 

And perhaps— though he would never tell this to Satya— it gave him the flexibility to do other things as well. But that was a private pleasure, not one he would flaunt in public.

But the private morning peace was bound to be interrupted eventually. Trust McCree to have the instincts to find them— and to lack the tact to leave them alone. 

“Sorry, y’all, thought the old rec room might’ve been a nice place to work on paperwork. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” McCree said one morning as he peeked into the room. Then he whistled, giving Hanzo a lookover. “I’d give my other arm to be able to stretch like that,” McCree said, impressed. “You takin’ on other students, Miss Vaswani?” 

Hanzo arched his eyebrow, but continued moving through his cat-cow pose. When had McCree ever shown interest in such things?

“If you can keep quiet while we go through the routine today, perhaps I will take you on another day,” Satya said from her position in a simple warrior's pose. “I do not think leather would be very conducive to most of our movements. For now, just watch.”

McCree plunked himself down criss-cross-applesauce down on the bare floor, grinning like a schoolboy. Hanzo raised an eyebrow at McCree’s jovial expression. 

“Leather’s a lot more flexible than you might think,” the cowboy said while he looked Hanzo in the eye. Hanzo flushed.

“Into child’s pose now, Hanzo,” Satya said, bringing his attention back to their routine. “We’re going to be working on upper-body strength and then opening up your hips. You are much too stiff.”

A chuckle from McCree’s seat. Hanzo’s face flushed darker as he shot an exasperated look in McCree’s direction. He adjusted himself so that he was kneeling, then bent forward with his arms stretched out on the floor and his rear in the air. He shifted a few times, trying to stretch his back and open up his hips.

“Into downward dog…” Satya said, doing the movement at the same time. Hanzo copied her, turning his body into a graceful arch from hand to foot, his hips as the apex. 

“Walk your hands in, then work to put the weight on them instead of your feet...good,” Satya said, giving a small smile. “You know the next part. Launch your legs.”

Hanzo grunted confirmation as he lifted his legs off the ground, going into an effortless handstand. McCree whistled appreciatively from his corner. He was now sitting with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, watching intently. 

“Down onto your forearms,” Satya instructed. “Good. Toes touching the earth again. Lower your shoulders and engage your core. One more… slowly lower your hips. We’re going into plow.”

Hanzo groaned as the stretch became more intense. Satya was right; he _was_ tight in his hips, despite all his time spent in lotus. It was here he tended to cramp up most often after a run, likely due to his prostheses and the stress it put on his joints and hips. 

McCree, oddly, was silent.

“What, not going to make a lewd jibe?” Hanzo challenged as he lowered his feet to the floor, almost meeting his bellybutton with his nose. He groaned happily as his spine stretched, allowing him to lower his knees to the floor right next to his ears.

“Just looks, uh, satisfyin’ is all,” McCree mumbled. Hanzo could not see around the wall of his body, but he would have bet his dinner that McCree was fidgeting the way he always did when he was avoiding particular truths.

_Interesting_.

“Very, actually,” Hanzo said casually, deepening the stretch with a grunt. He groaned again, guttural and deep as he felt his hips finally open, the joints adjusting to the pose. He dropped his hips minutely, sighing with what little air he had when his spine unkinked.

And there he stayed for a few long moments as Satya talked him through a brief meditation so he could savor the stretch. 

McCree kept making the most _interesting_ noises, though. He hummed, and scratched through his raspy beard, and coughed occasionally. 

“Can I help you with anything, McCree?” Hanzo asked.

“My spine aches just lookin’ at you,” McCree said, wincing. “Looks like that could be a mighty useful position to be able to get into, though.”

“Very,” Hanzo agreed. “It is excellent for stretching the entire back and opening the hips. There is a slight stretch to the backs of the thighs and hamstrings as well.”

“I mean, uh, for _personal_ time,” McCree said, eyes skating back and forth between Hanzo and Satya— who, for her part, seemed to be stifling the smallest of smirks. “You know, when it’s just you and your, uh, your body? Alone?”

Hanzo huffed a quiet laugh. _Hmm._

“Once you pick up the basics, I am sure Miss Vaswani can devise a routine for you to do in the privacy of your quarters,” Hanzo said, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “I find it is an excellent way to end an evening. Especially after a… stressful day.”

McCree coughed. “Mm-hmm, _yeah_ , I’m sure.” Then blessed silence. Hanzo completed his stretch and lifted his legs back up into a shoulder-stand, holding his balance and breathing deep.

But then: 

“Hey, Hanzo?”

“Yes, McCree?” Hanzo’s mouth quirked up in one corner.

“I have a question.” 

“I am sure Miss Vaswani would be better able to answer any inquiries you have about our routines.”

“No, see, it’s a personal question. For, uh, the less fair sex. Though you’re mighty fair yourself, there.”

“What do you need to know?”

“You ever thought about suckin’ your own dick like that?”

Hanzo sputtered into a coughing laugh, collapsing on the floor and guffawing louder than he had in a long time. 

“I believe that is my cue to leave,” Satya said primly. She patted Hanzo on the shoulder on the way out. “Do try to not destroy the place further than the years of neglect have, Hanzo.”

Hanzo laughed even harder when he finally was able to look at McCree. Not a shred of decency in the man— he had his chin in one hand, grinning unabashedly at Hanzo where he was collapsed on the floor. 

“You gonna give me an answer when you’re done laughing?”

Hanzo chuckled one last time, then swept his loosened hair out of his face. He shot a smirk at McCree. 

“Thought about it? Please. I have practiced yoga for years. I know the exact weight, girth, and taste of my own cock better than you ever will.”

McCree’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn,” he said, tugging his hat low over his eyes to hide his blush. He stood, brushing carpet lint off his behind and edging towards Hanzo. “Well, if you ever need an audience…” He winked and waggled his eyebrows.

Hanzo stood, rolling his yoga mat up and shaking out his joints. He stared as if considering the man in front of him— as if he had not made his decision weeks ago, the _first_ time McCree had surprised him with dirty non sequiturs.

“My quarters, sundown, three days from now. Shower beforehand. Wear something comfortable.” He pushed past McCree and darted down the hall before McCree could stop him. He flashed a parting glance over his shoulder. “If you are late, I will ignore your knocks. Understood?”

McCree leaned against the door frame, grin dirty and unashamed. “Yes _sir_ ,” he said, with a mock-salute. “Loud and clear.” 


	2. Evening Wind-Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree shows up, as promised.

Hanzo could feel McCree’s gaze like a tangible thing on his skin whenever they crossed paths over the next few days. The agent watched him even more intensely than he had before. What had once been casual glances, maybe a shared look of consideration, was now something heated and flirtatious. 

Hanzo took to teasing him: stretching a little further than he needed to to reach a high shelf; bending over at the waist instead of crouching down to pick something off the floor. If he hadn’t had a facade of the serious ex-yakuza to hold up, he would have been snickering the whole time.

When the third day finally came, Hanzo was prepared. His quarters were clean, fresh sheets on the bed and the window open, dispersing the faint trail of the incense he’d lit on the sill. He stood at the window and watched the sun slowly sink below the sea, swallowed by foam and gentle tides that pulled its heat to the other side of the world.

Just as the last sliver of light sunk below the horizon, McCree’s telltale knock reverberated through Hanzo’s door. 

_knock knock-knock knock_

Hanzo stalked over to his door, took a deep breath to settle the giddiness in his gut, and opened the door. It slid away to reveal McCree— dressed down. Dressed, in fact, in athletic gear Hanzo rarely saw: loose shorts that looked like they had seen cleaner years and a tight shirt that barely seemed to fit. 

And cowboy boots. 

“You came prepared,” Hanzo said, eyebrows shooting up even as he felt a smile break across his face. Then he nodded at McCree’s boots. “Almost.”

“Hey, _you_ said to dress comfortably,” McCree said with a grin.

Hanzo grinned back. “Get in here before I change my mind, cowboy.”

McCree wasn’t subtle at all about his clocking of the room, checking out the tidy corners: Hanzo’s neatly made but slightly-rumpled bed, his organized desk with only a few papers set out on it where he’d stopped mid-paperwork earlier, the small collection of souvenirs on his shelves. 

“Never took you for a tchotchkes man,” McCree said, nodding to the assortment of keychains and poorly-made figurines. 

“Genji brings me them when he’s out on missions and the schedule allows it,” Hanzo said, smiling at the thought. “I do the same for him. Though my collection is getting rather large; we might have to switch to something that takes up less space soon.”

“Try photos or postcards,” McCree suggested as he kicked back on Hanzo’s bed, toeing off his boots and stretching out. “Put em in a scrapbook or make a digital album— less space, and a picture’s worth a thousand words, right?”

“Worth consideration,” Hanzo said with a nod. He sat on his yoga mat, which he’d laid out on the floor before McCree got there. He raised an eyebrow at McCree’s casual sprawl across his bed. “I thought you wanted to learn a new routine tonight. Why are you making yourself so comfortable?”

“Figured we’d end up over here anyway,” McCree said, cackling a bit as he patted the bed beside him and waggled his eyebrows. “You were serious about making me stretch out?”

“You wanted a show,” Hanzo reminded him, smirking back. It was hard to keep a straight face. “I’m certainly not going to stretch with an audience. You’ll make me nervous.” He put one hand over his heart. “I’m sensitive, McCree.”

McCree snorted a laugh, sliding off the bed so he sat cross-legged in front of Hanzo on the floor. “You ain’t been sensitive a day in your life. You’ve got skin thicker than a rhino’s.”

“And yet I wilt at the slightest disparagement,” Hanzo said, shaking his head in mock shame. He grinned up at his guest. “Come here and give me some encouragement or I won’t perform for you.”

McCree whooped and leaned forward, gripping one of Hanzo’s shoulders and ducking in to plant his lips on Hanzo's. The kiss was heavy, warm with laughter and anticipation. Hanzo broke first with a nip of McCree’s bottom lip, dragging his teeth along it before letting him go with a wet smack. He sat back, took a deep breath and let it out before lowering his eyelids and raising an eyebrow.

“Settled yet?”

“Let’s get this show on the road, partner,” McCree said, settling back on his haunches. If he shifted a bit to hide the tent in his shorts, Hanzo wouldn’t call him out on it. 

Hanzo led him through a series of simple stretches at first. He tried not to pay attention to how McCree’s shorts rode up on his long legs, all hairy and faintly flexing as McCree put more effort into this than Hanzo had ever seen him do in pre-workout for their actual training sessions. 

“You’re more flexible than I expected,” Hanzo noted. 

“I will admit to a bit of morning calisthenics,” McCree said loftily. “Nothing like a good stretch after a good shit.”

Hanzo grimaced at the imagery. “You truly are a master wordsmith,” he said dryly. “Are you ready?”

“Just about,” McCree said with a grunt as he righted himself from his stretch and shook out the strain from his limbs. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Hanzo smirked as he lifted his legs and hips into the air, holding the position for a moment before dropping his legs towards the floor until his knees settled by his ears. He breathed deeply for a moment, feeling the calm settle over him as he dropped his spine a little further, opening his hips with every exhale. 

A tremor of excitement ran down his spine, sending the hair on the back of his neck alight. It was warm here, between his thighs. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. The bulk of his groin rested against his nose, his balls pressing against his forehead.

“Need some help?” McCree asked, more quietly than he’d been before. Hanzo tried not to flex under his gaze and failed, vain as ever. Tch. It did not hurt to be a little proud of the body he had honed with great purpose. 

Hanzo knew his shorts were tight and his muscles were taut. He reached up to grasp his own buttocks to pull his hips lower. It spread his cheeks and pulled the fabric of his shorts even tighter than before. 

Aware of McCree’s eye on him, Hanzo pulled his cock out of his shorts, opting to keep them on for at least a little bit of mystery. 

He always liked to start with little suckles to the semi-soft head of his cock, a calm coming over him as it firmed under his lips. He could fit his whole cock in his mouth at this phase, letting it lay plump on his palate. Sometimes he would simply sit for long minutes letting the gentle pleasure drag on as long as he wanted it to. 

But not tonight. He had promised a _performance_. The prideful flame in his chest burned hot as he heard McCree’s breathing escalate, the only indication that he was even paying attention. 

“I’ve never shown anyone this before,” Hanzo murmured against his spit-slick cock. “You better appreciate this.”

“Honored, as ever,” McCree said, his voice gravelly and low. Hanzo preened under the attention. “You want any help?”

“In a bit,” Hanzo promised. “Be patient.”

Hanzo felt the saliva leaking out of the corners of his mouth as he fucked his own face, straining ever closer, ever deeper. Spit and precum started to soak his beard, dripping sticky down his chin to his neck, where it mixed with the sweat in the creases of his body. Hanzo moaned as he felt his cock twitch against his own tongue, pressing just that increment deeper. 

There was something meditative about sucking his own cock. The cool breeze from the window blowing over his back, the firm floor beneath him, the stretch of his muscles. The calm blank that came over him as he enveloped his head in the space between his own thighs. The stretch as he let his jaw relax and drop open. The thick, sweat-salty weight of his cock on his tongue, pushing back towards his throat. The taste of it, familiar and strange at once. 

It was just what he needed.

A faint noise broke him out of his reverie. A grunt, barely a puff of air. Hanzo groggily opened his eyes. He couldn’t see around his own body, but he could hear McCree mere feet away, huffling like a train with the wet sound of his hand on his cock reverberating around the room. 

Hanzo pushed further on his ass, pulling the cheeks apart so far that the fabric creaked as he tested its fibers. 

Hanzo moaned as his balls twitched, pushing against the taut fabric. More precum dribbled into his mouth as he sucked loudly, getting sloppy in his eagerness to come with such a devoted audience. The room was hot now, and Hanzo began to slip, his pretzel-like posture almost coming unwound— stopped only by a warm hand at his tailbone keeping him from floundering back to the floor. 

Hanzo moaned again when another hand landed on his hip. Together the hands kneaded his cheeks, rubbing back and forth. The touch was leisurely, almost reverential. When one hand reached up to cup his aching balls, Hanzo whined and sucked harder. 

“Lookin good, there,” McCree rumbled quietly, almost as if mesmerized himself. “Nice show, Shimada.”

Hanzo raised a one-fingered salute to him, then moaned sharply as McCree laughed and pressed his face into his taint. He breathed humidly against Hanzo’s hole. And still his hands massaged, dragging against soft blue fabric up and down.

Hanzo whined as McCree nuzzled his hole, nose brushing his balls as McCree lapped open-mouth at the divot where his hole was. 

“You can be mad at me later, but god _damn—”_

With a quick twitch of his metal hand, McCree ripped the seam right down the center of Hanzo’s shorts. Hanzo shuddered as McCree sucked on his now-exposed testicles, laving his long tongue over them, drawing one into his mouth before diving down to slurp at Hanzo’s hole.

“I knew your hole’d be just as pretty as the rest of you,” McCree said with what had to be an incorrigible grin. “Look at that. Cute as a button. You wax?”

Hanzo grunted, waved his middle finger at him more vigorously. 

Then he inhaled sharply, bravado forgotten when McCree’s fingers joined his mouth in playing with his rim. Hanzo could do nothing but moan as McCree thrust his tongue into Hanzo’s hole, digging his tongue in and slurping, fucking him with it like he thought he could lick his way into Hanzo’s core. The fingers of his right hand pressed in with them. Just the one at first, calloused and thick, a hard comparison to the softness of his tongue. Hanzo tried to thrust into his hand encouragingly and ended up just fucking his own throat.

In a pleasure-hazy feedback loop, Hanzo moaned and rocked between McCree’s mouth and hand and his own mouth. He fucked his own throat, feeling the stretch of it as his cock pulsed against his tongue. He was close...so close…

McCree pressed a second thick finger in along with the first, slipping through his spit until he was in deep, then crooked his fingers and jabbed directly at Hanzo’s prostate without warning. 

Hanzo would have screamed if he’d been able to get the air out, but instead he just moaned in jerky yelps around his cock as he spilled down his own throat. He twitched under McCree’s hands as he continued to milk Hanzo’s prostate. The touches were despicable in their gentleness, McCree mouthing over his twitching balls as Hanzo emptied into his own mouth. Every rub, every jab, corresponded with another dribble of cum over Hanzo’s palate in a bitter stream. 

Hanzo finally pushed back, urging McCree away from him as he let his body uncurl. He finally collapsed on the floor, taking deep, gasping breaths. 

Hanzo stared at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath. The air was cool on his face and neck where cum, spit, and sweat trickled in messy streams. He could feel it in his beard, matting what had been a well-groomed effort this morning. His body ached all over. He wiped his face with the back of one hand, then wiped his hand on the nearest piece of cloth— McCree’s shorts, abandoned on the floor next to him. 

Finally, he let his gaze fall to the man himself.

“Satisfied?” Hanzo asked with a raised eyebrow. His voice was gravelly, his throat sore. He angled his head at McCree’s lap. 

“C’mere a sec and I will be,” McCree rasped, yanking Hanzo in by the back of his sweat-sticky head and pulling him close. 

Hanzo let himself be led, eventually eased back to the messy floor, his leg bent up once again as McCree rutted against him, pulling at Hanzo’s shorts to reveal his softening cock and the area his mouth had been so well acquainted with minutes prior. 

McCree growled as he fucked against Hanzo’s slick taint, biting Hanzo’s neck and holding on for dear life.

“Fuck, you taste like you just— _fuck!”_ McCree growled, grunting as he stripped his cock, striping Hanzo’s hole, balls, and ripped shorts with spurt after spurt of cum. He rubbed his cock in it, spreading the mess into the fabric and into the sweaty curls of Hanzo’s pubic hair. He ground until he was done, then drew back for air. 

Hanzo stared at him from his spot half-collapsed on the rug, still breathing heavily. He licked his lips, willing his heart to settle and his eyes to focus. 

McCree promptly dropped to the floor next to him.

After a few minutes of silence, Hanzo said, “So. Yoga at dawn tomorrow?”

“Does that mean I’m sleeping over after all?”

Hanzo rolled himself over the floor to throw an arm over McCree’s middle. He snorted a laugh. “Make it worth my time, and maybe I’ll tell Satya we will have to reschedule.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out at twitter.com/GoInterrobang on twitter for more information about what I'm working on next!


End file.
